


Stay

by RemyJane



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, M/M, Matt to the Rescue, hurt foggy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-11
Updated: 2015-07-11
Packaged: 2018-04-08 20:34:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4319103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RemyJane/pseuds/RemyJane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If Superman’s weakness was kryptonite, then Daredevil’s achilles’ heel was Foggy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stay

Before he opened the door, before he was even at the building, something just on the edge of his senses was not right. It was what had drawn him towards Foggy’s apartment in the first place. He couldn’t shake the sensation that something was very, very wrong. 

The door was unlocked, the wood split around the lock, like it had been kicked in. Running his fingers over the door frame, Matt felt the splintered wood, anger mounting in his gut. The apartment was nearly silent. Matt could hear the rattle of the heater, the ticking of Foggy’s watch, and the TV from some apartment upstairs, but he couldn’t hear Foggy. 

Matt could pick out the sound of Foggy’s sleeping breath and heartbeat from hundreds of people, he’d bet his life on the fact. 

The sharp tang of copper in the air told Matt that blood had been spilled. He could smell the remaining traces of sweat and the murky smell of the Hudson River. The docks, maybe…

He walked into the bedroom, the copper smell growing stronger. Foggy’s watch ticked on the nightstand, just like it did every night. The pillow was wet under his fingers, blood smearing between them. Foggy’s blood. His head spun and he wiped his hand on his thigh. 

Matt felt sick. Someone, two someones it seemed, had kicked in Foggy’s door and taken him in the middle of the night. They’d probably subdued him with the blow to the head. Matt covered his mouth with his hand, backing out of the room as he imagined the scenario unfolding. His heart was racing, breathing rapidly. Oh God... 

This was his fault, had to be. Regular people usually didn’t get drug out of their beds in the middle of night, but people who were friends with the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen...they were in danger. He put people in danger.

Pulling himself together, Matt started following the smell of dock workers and Foggy’s soap, following to where it ended abruptly in the alley. A car, then. He could smell mixture of gasoline and an oil leak, fresher than the ambient smell of the alley. 

It was nearly dawn by the time he’d picked up Foggy’s trail again. 

It was a matter of seconds to dispatch the sleepy guard standing outside, cigarette hanging loosely from his lips as he tried to stay awake. He slipped inside easily. The warehouse was dank, an overwhelming scent of mold. 

“I don’t know, I don’t know. Stop! Ahhh! Stop, please!” He could hear Foggy’s ragged voice, distant and muffled by walls. Following the sounds, he could hear the assailant’s voice next. 

“Who is the Devil?”

“I-I don’t know!”

“You’re a liar!” A solid whack made Matt wince as he seethed and weaved his way through the maze of storage containers. The echoing tone of Foggy’s voice told him he was in one of them.

“Actually, I’m a lawyer.” Foggy replied breathlessly, voice tight with pain. The scream that followed tore something inside Matt’s heart and he snapped.

He banged on one of the containers next to him, the echoing sound loud in the heavy silence. 

“What the fuck?” He heard the other man say. “Who’s there?”

“Oh, you guys are screwed. You’re so screwed.” Foggy laughed weakly. Matt smiled; Foggy knew he was there now, he could hear his racing heart slowing. 

“Shut up!” The man hissed. Foggy’s heart was racing again. Matt followed the sound until he was close enough to smell the onions on the man’s breath. 

“Put him down.” He ordered. The man was holding Foggy up in front of him like a shield. He had a gun in his other hand, Matt could smell the scent of gun residue, but no blood. Nothing to suggest Foggy had been shot. Maybe it had just been a scare tactic…

The mental image of the man firing a gun with the intent to scare his best friend made his insides run cold and red, filled with hate. 

“Put him down and you might live.” He growled. The man tightened his grip on Foggy, the captive gasping as the pressure on his throat increased. 

“Awfully tough for a guy without a gun.” 

“I don’t need one.” Matt launched himself at the assailant, knocking aside the weapon. He dropped Foggy to the ground and Matt tried to lead him away from his friend. He was relieved that Foggy had enough wherewithal to roll away from them. 

As far as fights went, it wasn’t exactly difficult. Whoever these guys were, they weren’t doing a good job. He knocked him out with a hard punch and immediately ran to his friend’s side. 

"You're late." Foggy smiled wearily, upturned corners of his mouth tinting his voice. "You should buy me flowers." Matt could hear the slightest tremors in Foggy's voice, just a little thick with emotion.

"Where are you hurt?" Matt knelt next to him, nimble fingers untangling the knots of rope restraining his friend. 

"It's nothing, really. Not that...not that bad." Foggy was breathing heavily. 

“Let's get out of here." Foggy was starting to tremble. "Let's get you home." There was a pause before he answered. Matt could tell he wasn't moving, probably zoning out, staring into the darkness. 

"I'm nodding." He wasn’t, but Matt appreciated the attempt at humor anyway, no matter how weak. 

He lead Foggy out of the warehouse, retracing his steps. After his friend stumbled a few times, he grabbed his hand, guiding him as gently as he could. But quickly. 

Matt knew they were racing the clock. Foggy could only pretend to be ok for so long. His heart was pounding in his chest as he neared hyperventilation. Matt could feel the tightly wound tension radiating off of him, the adrenaline all that was keeping him upright. 

"Marci stopped by when you were at lunch yesterday." Matt said, trying to distract him. They just needed to make it someplace safe, then Foggy could react however he wanted. Matt couldn’t risk Foggy any more than he already had. 

"Oh?" Foggy panted. His hand was clenched in Matt's, sweaty palms sticking together. The shakes were getting worse. 

"She was looking for her 'Foggy Bear', said she had something to ‘give’ him." It only earned him a little huff of a laugh. Matt touched Foggy's cheek, skin clammy under his fingers. "You're almost home. That's all you have to do. We can't get caught out here, ok?" He could feel a couple stray tears drip down his cheek. 

Foggy nodded, tensing his jaw to stop the chattering of his teeth. Matt felt a little chill on the inside at how Foggy was trying to delay his impending mental breakdown just for him. Just because he asked. Foggy would do anything Matt asked, even if he really couldn’t. 

He couldn’t do it forever though. He finally shattered open in the stairwell of his building, slumping against the wall with a gasping sob. 

"I can't breathe! I can't-!" Matt hauled him to his feet and carried him the rest of the way. 

Matt would do anything for Foggy, too. 

He deposited his friend on the couch, wrapping him in the throw blanket that had been draped over the back; It was a gift from his mother and it smelled like her detergent. 

"I've got you, Foggy, please, I'm right here. Just listen, ok? I'm right here, right with you, buddy." His hands gripped tight to Foggy’s upper arms. 

Foggy sucked in a deep breath. "Matt, Matty, oh my God, oh my God!" He bowed his head forward, hyperventilating. “I-I-I...Why? Why can’t...Oh God, why can’t I stop? I’m sorry, I’m...” He was shaking apart under Matt’s hands, skin hot even through his clothes.

“It’s a stress reaction, it’s ok. It’s normal, it’s completely normal. You’ve been through a lot.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry-” Foggy gasped.

“Why are you apologizing?”

Foggy didn’t answer immediately, the pause worrying Matt. Suddenly, Foggy was retching and Matt felt and smelled vomit landing on his shoes. He swallowed hard, trying to breathe as little as possible.

“For that.” Foggy rasped. He immediately disintegrated into ragged sobs, hardly able to catch his breath, completely unintelligible. Matt slipped away and took his shoes off, throwing them in the bathtub to be dealt with later.

When he returned, Foggy had slid down to the floor. His cries were muffled by his hands as he wheezed and gasped. Matt dropped down next to him. He didn’t know what to do, exactly. Foggy had always been a strong, steady presence in his world. He’d never fallen apart like this; he’d cried, sure, he was an emotional guy. But this was different.

“Are you hurt? Does anything hurt?” Foggy couldn’t stop crying. “Foggy, please, are you hurt?” Foggy’s heart beat frantically in his chest. “Foggy!” He grabbed his arms, jarring him a bit. 

Foggy leaned into the touch, crashing against Matt’s chest. He wasn’t bleeding too bad and his breathing was relatively normal. So, Matt reasoned, he probably wasn’t going to die soon. He wrapped his arms around the stricken man, remembering that Foggy was a tactile person, that when they’d first met Foggy had told him he didn't mind leading him around, that he liked how it felt. 

He hugged him solidly, running his hands up and down his back, tracing the stitches in the quilt, the places where the thread had knotted and been left in. It had been machine quilted, he could tell. Probably by someone with a nosy cat, as a couple stray hairs were caught under the stitched. Slowly, so slowly it seemed to take forever, Foggy started to calm down. 

“Matty, I was so scared.” He whispered, tucked in under Matt’s chin. His breath was acidic and ripe, but Matt didn’t mind; Foggy was talking to him again.

“Me too.” He admitted softly, because it was the truth.

“Really?” He felt Foggy tilt his head to look at him.

“Of course. Just because...Just because I have this mask...it doesn’t make me different, not about you. Foggy...I’m so sorry.”

“Why?”

“Because our friendship put you in danger. And that’s the last thing I ever wanted.” Foggy nodded. Matt could hear tears plopping onto the quilt, could feel their dull impacts.

“Can you stay?” He whispered.

“Where else would I go?”

“I-I-I don’t know...anywhere, I guess.” Foggy paused, breath catching in his chest.”I just...I need you to stay, please? I’m so scared, Matty, so scared, and my chest is so tight and and I-” Matt could feel Foggy winding up for a second round of panic and he resigned himself to it; this was the course Foggy's terror would take. “I can’t breathe, oh my God, Matty, please, why, why, why?” Foggy struggled to get up, stumbling and falling to the ground. He scrambled back up, staggering into the kitchen haphazardly.

Matt winced as he heard him throwing up in the sink. He followed after him, hands finding their way to Foggy’s back, shirt damp with sweat. 

“You gunna hold my hair?” Foggy asked, sagging against the sink and scrubbing his hand across his mouth. “God, I'm still shaking."

“You’re gonna be ok. Don't worry about it, just focus on breathing normally."

"I don't think I know how anymore." Foggy laughed weakly. Matt's lips quirked up in a smile. 

"You should rest. You've got to be exhausted. I'll call Karen and tell her to take the day off."

"Off?" 

"There's no point in her coming in if we're both gone." Foggy didn't move, Matt could practically feel him staring at him. "You need to rest. And I told you, I'm staying, ok?"

"Ok." Foggy barely voiced the word. 

"Go brush your teeth and I'll help you get patched up."

Foggy nodded, stumbling out of the kitchen. Matt called Karen, who answered the phone sleepily, and explained that Foggy was ok, but needed a day off. 

"And you're...you're staying with him?"

"Yeah, just in case."

"Ok. Call me if you need anything, ok? And tell Foggy to feel better. I love you guys, so stay safe." 

Matt smiled at her sleep-slurred speech and said his goodbyes before hanging up and making his way into Foggy's bedroom. 

"Karen sends her love." Matt told him. "Can you tell me where you're hurt? I think you've stopped bleeding, but I want to check."

Foggy sat down heavily on the foot of the bed."I don't know. Everything hurts but I still feel kinda numb." He mumbled, dropping his head into his hands. 

"Ok. Can you get your shirt off?" 

It took both of them, but they finally managed to undress Foggy down to his boxers. Starting at his head, Matt began mapping out injuries, cleaning and bandaging them as he went. He committed each to memory, so that he would remember that this was his fault. 

The laceration over the goose egg on the back of his head had stopped bleeding, hair matted down with dried blood. Matt gently dabbed it away with a washcloth and wrapped some gauze around his head as his ministrations reopened the wound a bit. 

Bruises created over warm bumps of turgid skin across Foggy's rubs. Matt could feel the way his ribs shifted under his hands, could hear the bones as they rubbed together. 

"You have two hairline fractures in these ribs." He murmured. The rest of his body was a mess of bruises too. His knees were both bruised on the front, like he'd been forced to kneel on the hard ground too long. Matt hated the picture that painted in his head, hated everything about how scared Foggy had been and still was. Foggy wasn't ever suppose to feel fear like this.

"What did he do to you?" Foggy shivered, carefully pulling on his shirt and wincing anyway. 

“He had a baseball bat…” He shrugged, crawling up the bed. Matt could hear the soft rustle of blankets.

Matt sighed, “Get some rest.” He rubbed Foggy’s shoulder gently, pulling the blanket the rest of the way up. As he turned to leave, Foggy caught his wrist in his hand. 

“Stay?”

“I’ll just be on the couch.” He assured him.

“No. Stay here?” Foggy’s voice was barely audible, a little slurred and muffled by the pillow. He tightened his grip. 

“Foggy…” Matt wasn’t going to argue. If Superman’s weakness was kryptonite, then Daredevil’s achilles’ heel was Foggy. 

“Matty…” Foggy breathed, breaths evening out slowly. Matt sank down next to him, letting himself relax for the first time all night. It was nothing to let himself drift off with Foggy’s body heat lulling him to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> I love the idea of Matt taking care of Foggy occasionally. Foggy's so strong, but you can't be strong all the time.


End file.
